February Fourth
by turbomagnus
Summary: Alfred learns that what goes around comes around, because there's more than one 'Fourth' in a year. Featuring the Confederate States of America.
1. 2012 Edition

Disclaimer; I don't own or make money from Hetalia or any characters thereof. Sorry, I don't have a witty remark for this disclaimer.

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><p>"Febuary Fourth"<br>by J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

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><p>Alfred tossed and turned and pulled a pillow over his head to drown out the noise from outside. The normally fun-loving - some would say uncouth - and energetic - read; out-of-control - Nation was being sternly reminded of why this day annoyed him. Finally, he rolled out of bed and, storming to the window, slammed it open.<p>

"Cut it out, okay! Some of us are trying to sleep here! Show some respect for your only brother and let me get my beauty sleep, willya?" Alfred shouted out the window.

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><p>Arthur raised an eyebrow as Alfred walked into the Nations' meeting half-asleep before collapsing in a chair.<p>

"I can't stand this holiday," the younger nation grumbled.

Arthur thought for a moment, "I thought you enjoyed your 'Groundhog Day', America... why anyone would want to dedicate a day to a ground rodent's shadow is beyond me, but you've always made such a big deal out of it before."

"That was Thursday," Alfred muttered, "This is Saturday... Stupid brothers."

England looked down the table to where his brothers, Scotland and Wales; and sister, Ireland, were deep in conversation - likely related to Scotland's independence - and chuckled.

"Ah, the sibling you're always trying to ignore just because he lost your little rivalry. How is the Confederacy?"

"Little backstabber woke me up before dawn this morning with firecrackers and gunfire, what does that tell you?"

Arthur's expression became smug, "That now you know how I feel every July."

England walked away laughing.

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><p>Author's Note; Please leave politics at the door, whether you're a proud Southerner or from other parts of the United States or the world. This was written solely in good humor to provide entertainment in honor of the day that the Confederate States of America was formed with no intention to offend anyone or their beliefs.<p> 


	2. 2014 : If The South Woulda Won

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 4 February.

I didn't add anything for this day last year because I was in the middle of a hectic time, but here we go again...

Disclaimer; I don't own or make money from Hetalia or any characters thereof, using them without permission for entertainment purposes solely.

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"February Fourth"  
>'That Time Of Year Again'<br>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

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><p>In the bushes outside America's house, a figure crouched down next to a boom-box with their hand hovering over the play button as he counted down the seconds.<p>

"Five... four... ready... steady... now," they muttered before bringing their finger down and starting the CD in the player. There were ten seconds of pure instruments and then...

"If the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made," Hank Williams, Jr.'s voice blasted out of speakers hidden around the house, "I'd probably run for President of the Southern states! The day Elvis passed away would be a national holiday - if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made!"

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

Inside the house, in his bedroom, the personification of the Nation of America tumbled out of bed and landed in the floor, woke up by the sheer volume of the music that he could hear through the walls.

"I'd make my Supreme Court down in Texas!" Bocephus' voice announced, "And there wouldn't be no killers getting off free - if they were proven guilty, then they would swing quickly instead of writing books and smiling on tv!"

Speaking of Texas, America reached up onto his nightstand and felt around for his glasses, frowning when he couldn't find them.

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

On the ground outside, the Confederacy smirked and adjusted the glasses he was wearing as he reached over and turned the volume up even louder on the stereo system.

"We'd all learn Cajun cooking in Louisiana, and I'd put that capital _back _in Alabama," he sang out proudly along with Hank Jr., "We'd put Florida on the right track, 'cause we'd take Miami back and throw all them pushers in the slammer!"

"Oh, if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made! I'd probably run for President of the Southern states! The day young Skynyrd died, we'd show our Southern pride - if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made!"

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

Kneeling on his bedroom floor, America clapped his hands to his ears as a sudden blast of Dixieland Swing horns joined in the song before the next verse started.

"I'd have all the whisky made in Tennesse and all the horses raised in those Kentucky hills. The national treasury would be in Tupelo, Mississippi," the next words really hurt because America had always liked Ben Franklin, "And I'd put Hank Williams picture on one-hundred dollar bills!"

Fighting through the pain and the memories, America was able to get to his feet, but staggered when the song continued...

"I'd have all the cars made in the Carolinas and I'd ban all the ones made in China! I'd have every girl-child sent to Georgia to learn to smile and talk with that Southern accent - it drives me wild!"

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

The 'Other America' outside, however, was truely enjoying himself like he rarely got to. Foregoing the bushes, he had gotten out into the yard itself as he sang along with the song, 'Only way this could be better is if Hank Jr. were here himself instead of a cd...'

"I'd have all the fiddles made in Virginia, 'cause they sure can make 'em sound so fine! I'm going up on Wolverton Mountain and see old Clifton Clowers and have a sip of his good old Arkansas wine!"

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

By this point, America had managed to make it to his window and open it, cringing at the increase in the noise without that barrier there, "Hey! Cut it out! Stop it! Stop it, alright! No one cares about you anymore! You're a forgotten page in history! The only reason you're not completely gone is so people can sell t-shirts with that stupid cross flag on it, you know! Give it a rest and get in the dustbin of history where you belong!"

The Confederacy gave his 'brother' a hard look and marched over to the stereo, reaching down to max out the volume, making the other Nation cringe and shudder in pain as it increased. 'Brother' or not, nobody got away with insulting the Dixie flag like that.

"Oh, if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made! I'd probably run for President of the Southern states! The day Patsy Cline passed away, that would be a national holiday - if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made!"

When he returned to the middle of his brother's yard, the Confederacy now had a fiddle and bow in his hands that he played along with the Dixieland Swing in the song, delighting in the pained and frustrated expression on the other Nation's face.

"I said 'if the South woulda won, we'd'a had it made'!" the Confederacy sang out along with Hank Jr. before adding as the song reached its end, pointing his bow at the window as he spoke, "Might even be better off."


	3. 2015 Edition

Disclaimer: "Hetalia" and all related characters and situations do not belong to me, but are used for entertainment purposes without intent to profit or the permission of their original owners. Loosely ties in with the 'US/Sealand War' concept from "All Around The World"...

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"February Fourth"  
>'2015'<br>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

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><p>Throughout the Eastern timezone, clocks ticked away the final minutes of the day - February Third - uncaring and unknowing of what each passing second brought closer; the time was eleven fifty-seven and two figures - one young with blond hair and wearing an old sailor's uniform, the other older clad in jeans and a denim jacket topped off with a grey kepi hat and distinctive glasses - met up on the sidewalk in front of the residence of Alfred F. Jones - Nation of the country of the United States of America - with paints, brushes and an extension ladder.<p>

"Did we get everything?" the blond youth asked, "I'd hate to think we forgot anything."

"I brought everything on my list," the other figure answered, "As long as you remembered the 'special package', that should be all."

"Of course I remembered," the younger of the two replied offended, "I even found the perfect box for it, for that matter."

"Great," the second person answered, setting the extension ladder on the ground and looking at the house in front of them, "Then shall we get started?"

"Let's!" the blond softly cheered, "Another battle in my war against Alfred!"

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><p>-o0o-<p>

Dawn broke on the Fourth of February... and completely passed Alfred F. Jones by. Eventually though, later that morning, the Nation finally awoke with a yawn and a shake of his head.

"Man, that's weird," Alfred remarked to himself in his usual half-rambling, half-ranting way, "I actually got a good night's sleep last night. I can't remember the last year that's happened - usually the Confederacy tries something and ends up waking me up in the middle of the night with some stupid song or some other stunt. Huh, I guess he's finally learned his lesson that I'm the hero and it just doesn't pay to mess with the hero - took him long enough, but some people are just slow learners, I guess..."

Rubbing his eyes, Alfred stood up and put on his glasses, stumbling over to the window and opening it for a breath of morning air. When Alfred looked down at his front lawn, his eyes narrowed and he found himself clenching his teeth and feeling them grind against each other.

'Blue vertical... two red and one white stripes alternating... thirteen white stars in a circle on the blue field,' Alfred's mind listed off the details of the sight before him before he exploded verbally, "That Redneck Jerk! He _actually_ raised _his_ flag from his stupid country that doesn't even exist anymore on _my_ flagpole! How dare he insult the hero like this!"

Hurriedly, Alfred began to dress...

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><p>-o0o-<p>

The Nation of the United States was still ranting against the 'Other America' when he stormed out his front door clad in his usual outfit of a vintage Second World War military uniform and bomber jacket.

"Every year, it's something, it's always something," Alfred ranted as he crossed his lawn, "I don't see why he won't just give up and accept the fact that I won, he lost, I'm awesome, he's... well, not, so I don't see why he keeps this up. It's not like he could have ever beat the hero anyway, you know..."

When he reached the flagpole, he frowned as he noticed and picked up the box sitting on the ground next to it. Rolling his eyes, he pointed the top of the box away from him.

"Oh, like I don't know how this prank works," Alfred muttered as he carefully opened the box, blinking when the expected clown-head on a spring or fake 'snake' didn't come shooting out.

Cautiously, he turned it so that he could see inside. The only two items the box contained were two pieces of paper, so Alfred sat the box back down and took them out, looking at them with a frown on his face. One was a picture of some kid dressed up like a sailor standing next to the Confederate Nation, both of them waving at the camera, the other was a note.

'Billy, consider this a little present on the Fourth of February from the C.S.A. and Sealand', it was signed John R. Sutherland and Peter Kirkland and had a postscript, 'P.S. Turn around.'

Slowly, with an ever-growing feeling of dread, Alfred turned around to look at his house and he was unable to form any words, his jaw dropped in horrified shock as the entire front of his house, his beautiful awesome house, was painted to look like the Confederacy's precious 'Dixie' flag.


End file.
